


Beacon

by ceruleanshark



Series: Dark Lords of Arda [16]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Dagor Dagorath, End of the World, Fluff, Hurt No Comfort, I finally made Mairon cry, Kissing, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:30:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanshark/pseuds/ceruleanshark
Summary: Mairon and Melkor see each other one last time before the world is remade.





	Beacon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [modsenga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/modsenga/gifts).



> I wrote this at 2am while listening to the Titanic soundtrack after a good long headcanon session on the discord. You have modsenga to thank/blame for this fic's existence.

Mairon's robe swirled in the salt-stiff breeze as he pushed the heavy door to the forge closed behind him without a second glance at the dark interior, fires extinguished for the last time. Once, in a long past age, the forge had been Mairon's home. But as he turned away for the final time, he felt nothing but a brief stirring in his heart.

The stone stairs were warm beneath his bare feet as he walked down the too-familiar footpath. Despite knowing that the world was about to crash down around him, Mairon couldn't be bothered to hurry. 

The breeze smelled of salt and flowers as it wound its way up the slopes. Mairon peered into the distance, watching the dark clouds swirl and crackle with light, illuminating like lanterns. The grass bent in the wind as it grew stronger, and he unconsciously clutched his robe tighter about his slender form.

He approached the marble walls of the garden and unlatched the golden gate. The wind blew it open before him, and he stepped forward lightly, slipping neatly through the gap. 

Inside the garden, the jewel-like blossoms stood out sharply against the green background. The last light of the sun gleamed off the pale trees and bright flowers, but the faint haze in the air made the garden look washed-out. It reminded Mairon of a watercolor painting, the colors spilling into each other as the air rippled around him.

He rounded a corner and his eyes fell upon an achingly familiar fountain. The water sparkled as it cascaded merrily down the marble structure, looking just the same as it had ages ago.

The memory of his first real kiss was dim but Mairon clung to every scrap of it, treasuring each bit of clarity he could glean from it. He closed his eyes and keenly recalled the sound of falling water, the scent of honeysuckle, the chill of Melkor's hand on his own, and the light brush of his lips against those of the Vala. 

Mairon took a shaky breath and ran a hand briefly through his hair, slowly opening his eyes once more to let the world spill back in.

He walked out of the clearing with the fountain, stride purposeful, resisting the urge to glance back over his shoulder. Under the archways of trellises and white flowers he passed, the blossoms bobbing in the wind. The path sloped down between the smooth walls and led to a jagged cliff edge, covered with row upon row of bright flowers.

The storm was closer now, looming above the glassy ocean. The wind sliced right through Mairon's thick robe and chilled him to the bone, but he did not care. He could not bring himself to.

He stepped up to the edge of the cliff, watching the heather and fern and ivy draping over the edge and swaying far above the turbid water and sharp rocks. Plush grass swayed around his ankles, and he flexed his toes into the soft earth at the precipice. 

He knew that somewhere, Eru was preparing to unmake the world. It was over. All his eons of labor, of grief, of joy, of victory and defeat, were about to crash and burn around him. The armies and strongholds and plans he had worked so hard and long to create would soon all be gone.

But Mairon didn't care for orcs, or mighty dragons, or fortresses of stone and iron. The only thing he could bring himself to focus on, his one island of clarity in the chaos of the Dagor Dagorath, was Melkor.

His only love, the one who had left him long ago, the man called the black foe of the world; he was the one who occupied Mairon's every thought.

Melkor's absence had worn at Mairon's fea and broken his song. In spirit he had become as fragile as one of the Eldar, and though he could never force himself to say it he knew it to be true.

Inhaling deeply, he threw his arms wide and rose to his toes, standing tall before the storm. He threw his head back as the wind made his hair and robes stream out behind him, black and gold cloth beneath curls of red.

The storm would crash upon the cliffs soon, but Mairon knew he would be spared. After ages of forgework and obedience, he had redeemed himself in the eyes of Manwe and Varda. As a reward, he was to help sing the new world into being.

For now, Mairon faced oblivion with a faint smile playing about his lips. He was ready. He had not been truly alive for a long time.

And then something tugged at his fea, something was there that had not been thus in eons. Mairon felt his breath hitch, every fiber of his being knew this was a lie. It could not be, and he dared not hope for it. But the pull at his fea grew stronger, and as he opened his eyes, he heard a voice.

“Mairon!” The shout carried above the raging storm, but it was not angry. Elation surged through Mairon as he turned so fast he nearly fell, legs shaky. His heart pounded as he caught himself before he could tumble over the precipice. 

Thunder roared overhead and lightning flashed, but Mairon hardly noticed. Eyes watering from the icy blast of the wind, he dared to look up the pathway at the fountain.

There he was, at the top of the hill, hair tossed by the wind and a broad grin on his proud face. Despite the scars running across his nose and cheeks, Mairon had never seen anything quite so perfect.

“Melkor!” He cried in response, and then he was moving, sprinting up the slope without a second thought. Twice Mairon nearly tripped over his trailing robes, but he ignored it and ran on. Melkor was really there, standing beside the gem-bright fountain under the flashes of lightning.

Mairon practically flew under the trellis, low-hanging vines brushing his face as he sprinted through. Swiftly he entered the clearing, unable to stop as he drew near to Melkor. Even as the clouds opened up and rain began to fall in heavy drops, Mairon launched himself into the air towards his long-lost love.

And then finally, finally, Melkor's arms closed around Mairon's smaller form and held him close, Mairon's head slipping into the crook of his neck as easily as if they were built to fit together. Melkor spun him around twice, their hair and robes tossed by the wind as Mairon muffled his sob in Melkor's shoulder.

He couldn't remember the last time he had allowed himself the vulnerability of crying, but now the tears fell freely at the simple feeling of being in Melkor's arms again. For the first time in far too long, Mairon felt something more than numbness.

His fea was rekindling, flames leaping bright through his spirit and manifesting as a blaze in his hair. Despite the rain lashing the garden and forcing the plants to bend and blur in faintly washed grays, Mairon's form was alight with dancing golden flames.

Mairon could feel Melkor's fea knitting itself back together, burning with cold black flames that appeared about Melkor's legs and in his hair. Mairon felt complete in a way he couldn't remember. Their spirits burned together with a light so bright it could turn any mortal being to ashes if they so much as dared to glance upon it.

“You're back...but how…” Mairon ignored the tears running freely down his face as he met Melkor's gaze. He smiled and brushed his fingers across Mairon's cheek, setting him down but still cradling him close.

“I was defeated by them but I fled. There is nowhere I would rather be.” Melkor touched their foreheads briefly together, heedless of the rain and thunder.

“Little flame, I shall always return to you. You are where I belong. I pledged myself to you once when the world was young. That promise will never die.” Melkor's voice was a low rumble. “If you will have me, I will make that promise once more. We will face destruction together, and not even Iluvatar can tear us from our oath.”

Mairon clung to him tighter, eyes shining with both tears and desperation. If he was to repeat the choice he had made before, he would not aid in the making of the new world. None could say what would happen to him or Melkor. He would throw away all he had been forced to strive for since the destruction of the One Ring. There was no coming back if he were to make the same choice.

But it was too late for redemption, it had been since the day he had first kissed the dark Vala. Perhaps it had been since their eyes first met, since that spark of connection flared to life between them. Mairon was too far gone. 

And he wouldn't want it any other way.

“I will always have you.” He whispered, before beginning to sing softly. The song was quick and simple, but achingly familiar. Melkor joined him, their words mingling and their songs fusing once more.

Their light shone and rippled even as the storm continued, a haven of color and life in a dying world. 

And as the last notes of their song hung heavy in the air, Mairon jumped back up into Melkor's arms. Throwing his arms around his neck, he kissed him.

The kiss was tender and undemanding, but it carried the weight of their entire lives with it. Mairon was condemning himself to nonexistence with a simple kiss, but then again their first had been just as damning.

“It can't be ending.” Mairon whispered brokenly as they moved apart. “It feels like it's just begun.” 

Melkor sighed and brushed Mairon's still-glowing hair away from his face. “We stand together in all things, precious. In life, in separation, in banishment. I am by your side, as you are by mine.”

“Melkor.” Mairon whispered, overwhelmed. He hid his face in Melkor's chest and wept, both because they were leaving and for what they were leaving behind.

Melkor did not cry as they clung to each other desperately. Mairon wouldn't have expected him to. The Vala was so unlike him, and yet so familiar.

Mairon was standing once more, feet firmly on the ground, but he leaned into Melkor so heavily that it didn't matter. The storm roared louder and louder until their voices would be drowned if they tried to speak.

They had never needed words. Mairon merely locked eyes with him, and their minds entwined for the last time. 

:I love you: Mairon thought, knowing it was written into every line of his face. Melkor gave him a smile midway between joy and grief, then sent the same thought back to him. :I love you too, precious:

And as the world collapsed in on itself, they stood together against the might of Eru, a spark in the chaos of the ending of Arda. They glowed with the light of a thousand suns, a beacon in the storm, minds entwined and lips pressed together.

For a single moment, they were the only two beings in the world, and nothing mattered except them and their love. They were blazing brighter and brighter, standing defiant and proud in an orb of golden light.

The light went out. Everything disappeared.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this made me feel more emotions than it should have.


End file.
